


O Icarus

by ironicpalmtree



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Guard! Ryan, M/M, Minecraft, Solar Queen! Gavin, Sorcerer! Gavin, Well my take on it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 00:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11885622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicpalmtree/pseuds/ironicpalmtree
Summary: In which Ryan accidentally falls in love with a demi-god.





	O Icarus

**Author's Note:**

> In celebration of getting 3 (edit: now 4!) of my fics over 100 kudos please take this and enjoy it!
> 
> It's my interpretation on the whole solar queen Gav thing, except I started writing it before Ryan was a dark God so now that's a little inconsistent. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone that's read my stuff and liked it. It's so encouraging and it's really helped me grow in such a small space of time :)

_Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight._

_For the greatest tragedy of them all,_

_Is never to feel the burning light._

**i.**

The waning light of the afternoon sun cut sharp shadows in the throne room, leaving the King bathed in warmth while his court wallowed in the half-gloom. The official day was almost over, a blanket of lethargy covering the room as the nobles took lazy draughts from heavy goblets and stifled their yawns.

Ryan stayed alert, back straight and eyes constantly scanning the area while he stood guard at the bottom of the King’s dais. He was waiting for Geoff’s signal to officially close the court, eager to remove his armour and roll the aches from his neck and shoulders. The King seemed to shake himself from whatever wine-induced stupor he’d sunk into, hand already waving vaguely in Ryan’s direction.

Ryan’s ringing shout was cut short by the rough drag of heavy-set oak doors on stone. Ryan snapped his mouth shut, hand falling back to the sword strapped to his waist. The guards that were scattered throughout the throne room all stirred, leather armour creaking as men snapped to attention and steel scraping while blades were loosened in their scabbards.

The throne room doors met the wall with an echoing rumble and two guards stepped in, iron shod boots ringing against the smooth stone floor. Between them stumbled a young man, hands bound in front of him and rough sack-cloth tied around his head. Michael met Ryan’s sharp gaze as he advanced up the throne room, head held high and lips pressed thin while he walked by a group of half-drunk courtiers. Jeremy was behind the prisoner, finger’s playing nervously with the bow string that lay across his chest. Even from here, Ryan could see tufts of shockingly purple hair poking out from beneath his helm.

There was a flutter of movement in the court, a low murmur of interest rippling through the nobles as the bag was ripped from the prisoner’s head and his face bared to the king.

Michael led the boy closer to the king’s dais, forcing him to his knees at the bottom of the steps. Geoff leant forward on his throne, eyes gleaming with unrestrained excitement as he examined the trembling man before him. Ryan observed the scene much more impassively, neutral expression visible through the open cut of his helmet.

The stranger was covered in brightly coloured shawls – spider string woven delicately and dyed with paints made from the ochre in desert rocks – a yellow scarf was also wrapped around his neck, contrasting perfectly with the tan pallor of his skin. Intricate gold bangles twisted up his forearms and wrapped around the lean muscle of his biceps. Wooden beads and silver chains hung heavy against a heaving chest and thin canvas pants cut off half-way down prominent calves. However, it was the young man’s hair that drew every eye in the room; glowing slightly and looking like it was made of delicate feathers of pure gold.

Startling green eyes flickered wildly around the room, pupils dilated by a bone-deep, animalistic fear. Geoff sat pensive on the throne, long fingers steepled together and pressed against his lips. Behind them, nobles ventured from their padded benches, leering at the terrified prisoner and whispering to each other excitedly. The man was exotic and new and these people were looking at him like he was a rather expensive cut of meat.

“Stay back.” Ryan growled, fingers wrapping around the hilt of his long-sword in a non-verbal threat. A vicious protectiveness had reared up inside him, a sudden need to protect the strange boy that cowered before him. From the silver studs pressed into his ears and the man’s uncommon complexion, Ryan guessed he hailed from the tribes to the east. He’d read about them in the scrolls kept in the castle’s vast library – a nomadic people, wandering between the jungle caves and desert dunes in regular, seasonal patterns. Not much was known of their culture, only myths and tales told to scare children from straying too close to the border of the kingdom.

“Why have you brought me a nomad Michael?” The king drawled, slouching back down on his throne and reaching for his goblet. Michael straightened and moved to stand beside the prisoner, shoving up the front of his helmet so he could speak.

“Jeremy found him snooping around in the castle garden. Looked like he was stealing fruits from the orchard.” The guard’s booming voice had no trouble ringing through the vaulted throne room – Ryan had the impression that Michael didn’t know any volume other than loud. “We were going to take him straight to the dungeons but we thought you might find him interesting, my lord.”

“Interesting…” Geoff rolled the word around for several seconds, eyes flickering to Ryan for a moment before he dropped his cup with a startling clang.

The king rose from his throne with a fluid grace that bespoke of past days on the battlefield and descended with heavy steps from the dais. He circled the boy slowly, eyes tracing along the line of his shoulders and down the lithe muscle of his bare arms. He reached out, gloved fingers brushing lightly along the silken thread of his shawls.

The stranger’s reaction was immediate and Ryan could only take a half-step forward before the younger man snapped free of his restraints and scrambled away from the king. Jeremy and Michael surged forward, blades sliding from their sheaths with a rough whisper of steel against steel.

“G-Get away!” The young man cried, eyes impossibly wide and hands stretched out in front of him. Michael froze mid-lunge, mail-covered hand ready to grab him by the scruff of his neck.

What looked like pure light was spreading rapidly from the palms of the prisoner, twirling around thin fingers and snaking up his arms. Eyes once green now shone gold, flashing fiercely as more guards stepped hesitantly forward. The light was now building into concentrated balls in his hands, glowing brighter and brighter as his body coiled ever-tighter.

A flash of panic shot through Ryan and he stepped in front of Jeremy and Michael, sweeping his hand at the wall of advancing guards. “Do what he said, stay back!” He shouted, turning to glare quickly at Michael who looked ready to gut the tribesman.

Ryan turned back to the sorcerer, lowering his arms and crouching down to look the younger man in the eye. “Easy…” He murmured lowly, watching with concern as the tribesman’s chest heaved harder with each passing second. “We won’t hurt you…I won’t let them.”

Eyes filled with suspicion glared defiantly up at Ryan, the magic that danced in his palms flaring painfully bright. Ryan closed his eyes against the light but didn’t back away. He glanced pointedly over his shoulder, catching Jeremy’s concerned gaze before turning back to the sorcerer. “Fighting will do you no good.” He whispered, flinching as thin fingers flexed and drops of molten sunlight spilt onto the floor. “But you should trust that the king is smart enough not to harm a sorcerer without good reason.”

They stared at each other for a few long seconds, the silence only broken by the harsh, shallow pants of the tribesman. Eventually, the younger man’s shoulders dropped as he relaxed, light fading from his palms and the gold bleeding out of his eyes. “I have your word?” He murmured, the words twisted by his strange, lilting accent.

“You have my word.” Ryan assented, rising from his crouch and turning to meet the king.

“What shall you do with him, my lord?” He asked, quiet enough that the on-looking courtiers couldn’t hear.

Geoff considered the sorcerer for a moment, reaching up to stroke a hand through his clean-cut stubble as he deliberated. He turned to Michael and Jeremy, who both stood at attention, their weapons re-sheathed. “Take him to one of the guest chambers in the east-wing. I wish to speak with him privately.”

The two guards moved to gently help the young man up. They led him from the throne room, hands clamped on his upper arms as they passed back through the carved oak doors.

Geoff gave Ryan a minute nod and he turned to face the nobles who moved restlessly in their seating.

“Court dismissed!” He roared, the order backgrounded by the resounding boom of doors closing behind the captured sorcerer.

 

**ii.**

Ryan stood on the west wing balcony, shaded from the sun by a canopy of vines that grew up from the garden below and wrapped themselves around the eaves of the third floor.

The sweltering summer heat baked the air until it was entirely devoid of moisture and Ryan could feel his skin begin to dry and crack beneath the heavy mail of his hauberk. He suffered in silence, sharp eyes fixed firmly on the garden below where the king wandered between cleanly cut hedges and thick clusters of sunflowers.

Geoff was accompanied by the tribesman - still clad in his flowing shawls and glittering jewellery – who happily bounced from plant to plant, curious hands running gently over thick stalks and skimming reverently across velvet petals. The young man seemed to be most enraptured by the sunflowers; little sparks of magic burst from his hands and white teeth gleaming as he smiled brightly at the plants.

Geoff was laughing loudly beside him, reacting to the boy’s contagious joy as he danced around in the flickering patches of sunlight. Ryan couldn’t help but smile to himself as the sorcerer sent birds made of pure light flying into the air as his emotions seemed to boil over. One flew up past his head before disintegrating in a shower of golden sparks that glowed like embers from the fire by Ryan’s feet.

He couldn’t help but be awed by the tribesman’s ability. Elemental magic was rare within the bounds of the Central Province - although Ryan’s upbringing in the Northern Dominance had brought him into contact with a few ice elementals. Sun magic was rarer still, with only one other known instance being reported within the desert tribes.

Ryan had devoured every scroll he could find about magic, but the story of the sun elemental had always been the most fascinating to him. Old scholars claimed that a sun elemental was the chosen vessel of the Gods and as Ryan looked upon the young sorcerer – now painting pictures in the air with thin ribbons of gold – he was inclined to agree with them.

“I’m not sure Geoff’s gonna be happy when Gavin leaves with the trading caravans. He said they’d be back for him by the solstice.”

Ryan started as Jeremy shuffled up beside him, ready to relieve to captain of his watch. He sighed in relief and removed his helmet, shoving a clump of sweat-soaked hair up across his forehead. “Gavin…” It felt strange to think of the foreigner with such a common name, it made him seem… human when all Ryan could see was the image of a godling. He turned back to the ledge of the balcony, reaching to unbuckle the straps of his greaves. “You speak like you’ve gotten to know him.”

Jeremy nodded, grinning broadly as he looked down at the pair in the garden. “He’s been staying in the barracks with me and Michael – the king said he needs to be under supervision in case someone tries to kidnap him again.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, thinking back to an incident a week prior where a low-lying noble had tried to steal away the nomad and sell him to the highest bidder. Unfortunately – by Ryan’s standards – Geoff had deemed the severe magical burns Gavin had inflicted as punishment enough and spared the man’s life.

The sorcerer was by himself in the garden now, Geoff called away to a finance meeting with Jack and Gus. Ryan was unconcerned for the king, comforted by the knowledge that Michael had been tailing him from midday onwards. Both guards watched in silence as Gavin lay down in a patch of sunflowers, golden hair glowing brightly between the vibrant petals.

“Why does he stay?” Ryan asked suddenly, distracting Jeremy from his scan of the outer perimeter of the garden. The archer made a questioning noise, too focused on the group of stable boys trying to fix an upturned wagon to have heard Ryan’s question. “Why did he agree to stay until the solstice?” Ryan repeated, gesturing at the now snoozing elemental below them.

“The king made a deal. If Gavin helped him sort out his issues lighting up the city and driving out the monsters, he’d give him as many sun stones as the miners could find.” Jeremy snorted, leaning casually against the arch of his longbow. Ryan noted that the bow was almost as tall as its owner but wisely decided not to voice the observation

“How can he possibly help with that?” He asked instead, reaching up to wipe away the sheen of sweat on his forehead, “Geoff’s best magicians have spent years trying to fix the mob problem and nothing’s worked.”

Jeremy shrugged, moving to the other side of the balcony so he could also watch over the orchard. The day was growing long and the shadows from the fruit trees stretched far up on the rough-hewn walls of the castle. “He was explaining it all to me last night. Something about storing his sun energy in glass and metal and channelling it out later… I don’t know.”

Jeremy screwed up his face, like thinking that hard was beginning to hurt him and Ryan waved him off with an amused chuckle.

The noise caught the attention of Gavin several metres below, who grinned up at the two guards and gave an extremely exaggerated wave. Ryan tried and failed to hide his grin, letting another little laugh loose when Jeremy waved just as vigorously back.

The sorcerer caught his eye while he giggled, his whole face softening and his hair glowing brighter for a moment – if that was even possible. With a lazy wave of his hand another bird made of sun magic burst forth, fluttering up and beginning to flit around Ryan’s head.

Ryan swatted at it playfully until it exploded into rivulets of gold, which trickled down his fingers and warmed his skin before disappearing entirely. Ryan was breathless for a moment, eyes still locked with the sorcerer who sat between the sunflowers.

He couldn’t help but grin stupidly at him, utterly enraptured with his dark skin and glittering hair.

“Captain Haywood!”

Ryan jolted, pulling reluctantly away from the balcony to face the page boy who had rushed up behind him. He inclined his head, encouraging the young teen to deliver his message.

“The king requests your presence in the war chambers, urgent matters have arisen.” The boy rattled off, fingers playing nervously with hem of his white tunic.

Ryan nodded stiffly, replacing his helmet and reluctantly wiping away the remnants of sparks that still clung to his bare fingers. The messenger seemed rather anxious to lead him to the king and Ryan hurried from the garden balcony without a backward glance.

 

**iii.**

 

The wind set the freshly-lit torches on the rampart to flicker wildly and elongated shadows danced along the paved stones of the outer-castle wall. Dusk was bleeding into night with each passing minute, the blood and fire of the sunset leaching away to be replaced by star-studded ink.

Ryan walked along the wall with measured steps, watching the guard patrols in the lower courtyard with a critical eye. The sharp ring of boots against flagstone was a comforting rhythm, one that should hopefully keep the sentries awake through the long hours of the night.

He walked to the edge of the wall, leaning against the arrow-slat and peering out towards the citadel that lay further down the hill. The settlement was beginning to light up, inn-keepers and city sentries brightening up the streets and staving off any rogue hoards of monsters. From this far away the city looked like a pile of glowing embers, it’s light spilling out onto open swathes of grass and hills.

A gloved hand slapped down on Ryan’s shoulder, causing the man to jump and slam his head on the indented part of the wall. He whirled around, hand flying to the hilt of a dagger strapped on his chest. He relaxed as Adam, a senior lieutenant, broke down into wheezing laughter and withdrew his hand.

He attempted to maintain a stern expression but couldn’t help the small smile that broke through as the burly guard began to giggle uncontrollably.

“Sorry boss.” He finally gasped out, leaning heavily on his knees while he got his breath back. “You’ll have a nasty bump on your head come the morn!” Ryan narrowed his eyes at the lack of remorse on the larger guard’s face, and chose to pout in silence while the other man struggled to recover.

“Are you at any point going to tell me why you disturbed me?” Ryan asked, in a most definitely not sulky tone, while he reached up to gingerly rub at the bruise forming on the back of his head. Adam finally straightened, wiping his streaming eyes and once again clapping Ryan on the shoulder.

“To relieve you of course.” He exclaimed, gesturing vaguely at the nearby guard tower and courtyard. “It must be halfway to nine captain, go and eat and get some ale in your belly!”

Ryan sighed heavily, suddenly very aware of the aches in his feet and shoulders. He nodded several times, grasping Adam’s forearm and letting the other guard see his relieved smile. “I graciously accept your offer lieutenant.”

He pulled off his helmet with a relieved grunt, shaking out the flattened hair that tickled at his eyelashes. “Keep an eye on Dooley!” He called over his shoulder, one foot already in the stairwell that led down to the courtyard, “The brat’s fallen asleep one too many times on watch.”

He caught Adam’s sarcastic salute out of the corner of his eye before he slipped down the spiral staircase and out of sight. Ryan couldn’t help but yawn as he crossed the courtyard, blinking heavily in the glaring torchlight. He’d been up before the sun, riding out to mob-plagued villages and cataloguing damages.

A loud clatter sent him spinning back around to face the stairwell.

Gavin was crouched on the ground, hands scrabbling as sun stones and wire coils rolled out from an upturned box. “Bollocks.” The tribesman muttered, grumbling to himself as he shoved his supplies haphazardly into the crate.

Ryan stooped next to the younger man and held out a tangled ball of copper string towards the sorcerer. Gavin paused in his movements, looking up slowly and a grin breaking out when he realised it was Ryan kneeling beside me.

“Captain!” He greeted happily, gently taking the copper from Ryan and placing it on top of the pile. “Forgive my clumsiness, I’ve made a right mess of this.”

Ryan chuckled to himself, reaching over and dragging the crate towards himself. “Then perhaps I should take this instead, and you can lead me to its destination?”

Ryan rose, heaving the box up and balancing it in the crook of his arms. “Where to tribesman?”

“Gavin.” The sorcerer offered gently, grinning up at Ryan with teeth that shined in the torchlight. The younger man pointed in the direction of the east wing and they both headed off in that direction.

“Gavin.” Ryan repeated, shoving open a servant’s entrance with his foot and waiting for Gavin to walk through. The door thudded shut behind them, the noise echoing harshly in the narrow passageway. “Well Gavin, what use do you have for such an odd assortment of items?”

The tribesman laughed, a musical sound that sent Ryan’s heart fluttering in his ribcage. Gavin took a sharp left, slinking down another corridor and pausing before a rough oak door. “It’s for this.” He said simply, before pushing open the door and trotting inside.

Ryan followed in after him, eyes wide as he took in the apparent workshop. He set the crate down on a clear expanse of bench, mouth open as he watched Gavin flutter around the room.

The workshop was pervaded by a warm glow that did not come from torchfire. Glass orbs were strung around the room, a golden light appearing to float within them. Upon closer inspection, the light seemed to wrap itself around intricate curls of copper and iron.

“What are these?” He breathed, bare hand brushing gingerly at the glass and pulling away quickly when it burned white hot.

“Careful!” Gavin hissed, pulling his hand closer so he could inspect Ryan’s fingers. A blister was already bubbling up and Ryan was reminded of his childhood; of being tear-faced and whimpering in his uncle’s forge after he tried to touch a glowing rod of iron.

The sorcerer tutted over the small wound, waving a hand and dripping a small pool of golden light onto Ryan’s finger. His skin tingled for a moment before the light faded and his finger was left unblemished.

“Wow.” He whispered as Gavin released his hand, looking up and staring at the other’s eyes. They glowed faintly gold, but the colour was already leaking away to reveal the younger man’s usual green.

“Thanks.” Ryan mumbled, moving carefully away from the glowing glass balls and turning to inspect more of the mess that was sprawled across the bench. Sun stones pierced with thin rods of metal, silver fused with glass to form transparent cases and a nest of wire strewn throughout it all.

“You’re welcome.” Gavin said cheerily, dropping down onto a stool and immediately beginning to fiddle with a string of sun stones. The polished rocks pulsed at the sorcerer’s touch, as if they were reacting to the magic that thrummed beneath his skin.

“So?” Ryan said expectantly, chuckling as Gavin shot him a quizzical look from beneath his golden fringe.

“So what?” He asked, discarding the stones and reaching to inspect one of his glass box contraptions.

“What are…is…all of this?” Ryan waved his hands around, indicating pretty much everything in the room. Gavin giggled, picking up a pair of tweezers and pulling at the wires that protruded from the box.

“It’s something I’m working on for Geoff.” He explained, propping up the device so Ryan could see the array of mirrors and sun stones that were methodically attached inside. He glanced up at Ryan quickly, giving a shy little grin. “I’m sure you’re aware of the mob problems in the outer settlements.”

Ryan nodded solemnly, the memory of a blackened and crumpled guard from this morning flashing across his vision. “All too aware. The bastards are getting out of hand.”

Gavin made an affirmative noise as he pulled a glass ball closer and connected its metal base to the glass box with wire. The orb glowed brighter and Ryan had to close his eyes against the glare.

“Well.” Gavin said, nodding happily at the contraption, “I think I may have a way to help.”

At the expectant look at Ryan’s face he forged onwards, chattering excitedly about what he called a ‘sun storer’ and ‘light orbs’. Ryan tried to listen intently but the way the tribesman smiled was rather distracting. Eyes glittered with enthusiasm and his hands were flying wildly around his head, sparks bursting from his fingers intermittently.

“So you see!” The sorcerer exclaimed, gesturing at the wire that attached the ‘sun storer’ to one of the glass balls, “The sunlight is stored in here during the day and then at night we attach these and they light up!”

“…and they’re brighter than torches.” Ryan mused, leaning in closer to inspect the copper filament inside the glass.

“Exactly!” Gavin said, beginning to trip over his words in his excitement, “So the monsters will stay away and the guards won’t spend half the night replacing torches!”

“Amazing…” Ryan breathed, looking at Gavin while he said it. “This is brilliant.”

The sorcerer blushed, looking down at his lap and fiddling absently with a frayed piece of copper. “Well…it’s the least I could do.” He mumbled, his hair starting to glow unusually bright. “This kingdom has always been one of my favourites and Geoff said I could keep any of the leftover sunstones to help with my own magic.”

“It’s incredibly generous of you.” Ryan praised, feeling a blush of his own start to burn at his cheeks.

Gavin smiled again, self-consciously fiddling with the end of his scarf. They sat in silence for a minute, both chancing glances at each other and quickly looking away when eyes met across the bench.

“So…” The sorcerer began, awkwardly pulling another glass orb over to himself. “Do you wanna help me figure out how to light more than one at a time?”

Ryan nodded eagerly, dropping onto a stool and reaching for a glass ball of his own.

“Of course.” He said, laughing at the tribesman’s excited little wiggle, “I’ll try not to burn myself this time.”

 

**iv.**

The throne room had been converted for the summer feast – the courtier’s benches taken out and replaced with long tables. They were currently piled high with food; stuffed turkey and pheasant, steamed vegetables and smoked fish caught fresh from the river that ran through the city.

Nobles and royal visitors alike were stuffed along the benches, drinking spiced wine and trading stories. Voices, loud and boisterous, combined into a loud and discordant buzz that was giving Ryan a vicious headache.

He sat at Geoff’s end of the table, surrounded by emissaries from a little tropical kingdom to the west. Their customs were evidently a little different to the Central Province, as they ripped into seared flesh with relish and grabbed at communal plates with hands instead of utensils.

Ryan sighed into his pitcher, taking a gulp of his water and wrinkling his nose at the acrid stench of ale that wafted up as the man next to him spilled his goblet with a careless wave of his hand.

He had forgone his usual armour and mail for the occasion, dressed instead in a fine linen shirt and thick kilt that he had brought from his homeland in the north. The collar was tight around his neck and he reached up for the nth time that night to adjust it.

Nausea was rolling through him in waves – the blazing torchlight, rich smells and cacophony of voices assaulting him all at once. He rose abruptly from the table, nodding politely to the king who dismissed him with a sluggish wave of his hand.

Ryan found haven in the cool night air of the garden; the sounds of the feast muted and the cloying smell of meat and plum sauce replaced by the faint sweetness of the flowers. He breathed deeply, clearing his senses and centring himself as he waited for the thud of his headache to fade away.

He walked deeper into the garden, brushing his hands by the smooth bark of birch trees and through the thick stalks of the sunflower patch. Their petals were closed right now, the yellow washed out by the moonlight that bared down upon them.

Ryan walked onwards, smiling at the patch of moon flowers that always bloomed come night fall. He sat down in the springy grass that bordered the garden bed, content to listen to the rustle of leaves and the now distant laughter in the throne room.

“Bloody hell you lot can drink!”

Ryan jolted as Gavin seemed to materialise out of the shadows, walking towards him with soft steps as he followed the paved garden path. The younger man grunted as he sat down beside Ryan, stretching his legs out in front of him and immediately beginning to fiddle with the hem of one of his shawls.

He held an orb of light in his left hand, lighting up a small area around them and washing everything with the colour of gold.

“Some of us do.” Ryan finally responded, fingers twisting through loops of loose grass and tying their ends in knots. “I don’t understand how something so bitter can be drunk by the gallon.”

Gavin didn’t answer, but their silence was comfortable as they brushed shoulders and looked up at the stars.

Eventually, the sorcerer broke the silence. “You’re not from here.” He stated, like it was some grand revelation.

“Neither are you.” Ryan immediately sniped back, straight face breaking into a grin when the tribesman shoved at his shoulder.

“Sod off.” The younger man grumbled, now distractedly tracing lines of light in the air. “I mean to say that not many look like you around here.”

Ryan hummed in agreement, eyes following the swirls and patterns Gavin drew like he was hypnotised.

“I’m from the Northern Dominance.” He finally offered, surprised by the lack of recognition on Gavin’s face. “You know, lots of snow and ice, big white bears, tall mountains…lots of blonde, blue-eyed people.”

The younger man shrugged, a sheepish smile twisting at his lips. “I’ve never followed the King’s Road that far north…my tribe sticks mostly to the south east, so lots of humidity and sand.”

Ryan laughed again, the noise dying away as Gavin sent a flock of magic butterflies fluttering around his head. Their eyes met as the spectres slowly faded away, the only light now coming from Gavin’s still glowing palm.

“I would like to see it one day.” The sorcerer said earnestly, a far-away look in his now faintly gold eyes. “I’ve heard of snow. Another tribesman told me it was like sand but cold and wet. It seems so ridiculous.” He scrunched up his nose, cheeks dimpling as he considered the description.

Ryan chuckled, leaning back on his palms and looking up at the stars again. “Well…he’s not entirely wrong.”

“Do you miss it?” Gavin shuffled onto his back, folding his hands above his head and extinguishing his magic so they could better see the night sky.

Ryan considered his question for several seconds while he mirrored Gavin’s position. “I suppose so.” He answered simply, only continuing when Gavin nudged him gently with his elbow. “I miss the winter festivals the most. All the villages would come to our city and we’d eat and dance for days. There’d be ice sorcerers who’d make snow creatures and fire eaters and story-tellers that came from tribes like yours.”

“Sounds wonderful…” Gavin murmured wistfully, reaching up a hand to trace around a cluster of stars.

“And the northern lights.” Ryan added, tracking Gavin’s movement until he realised he was tracing the shape Apollo’s constellation. The God’s grand posture and flowing cape were easy to spot on a clear summer night like this.

“Northern lights…” The tribesman repeated, confused. “There’s lights everywhere, what makes them different in the north?”

Ryan giggled, a very uncharacteristic sound that he cut off quickly with a hand over his mouth. “No idiot.” he teased gently, not at all surprised when Gavin reached over and shoved him again. “They’re like rivers of colour up in the sky, but they only turn up in the dead of winter. My ma used to say that it was a giant painting by the Gods.”

“They sound beautiful.” Gavin said quietly, voice almost stolen by the breeze that was picking up. There was a funny note to his tone, like he was amused but trying his very best not to show it. He turned to Ryan, eyes still twinkling even though they were no longer reflecting the stars. “You’ll have to take me there. When the festival’s on and the lights are out.”

He sounded so certain of this, so genuinely excited by the prospect that Ryan could do nothing but grin and stare up at the stars.

 “Yeah.” Ryan whispered, watching as Gavin sent sparks of gold flying up into the air again, “Of course I will.”

 

**v.**

 

The city was bustling with activity – the main square constantly rang with the sounds of construction and the wide, paved laneways of the town were choked with carts and crates full of fresh produce and goods. Excitable children rushed all over the market district, tying strings of flowers along every roof and throwing richly coloured tapestries wherever there was space. The summer festival was set to begin in a few days, the city swelling with an influx of travellers and traders who were drawn by the lure of a plentiful harvest.

Ryan couldn’t help but smile broadly as a herd of children stampeded past him, hand-woven rugs held out behind them like capes and wooden buckets balanced precariously on their heads in the place of a helm.

Gavin laughed softly below him, crouched down on the ground and fiddling with one of his mirror boxes. “Precious little ones.” He murmured, standing up to examine a string of glass orbs he’d tied between two buildings.

“Pass me some more copper Michael.” The nomad called over his shoulder, reaching up to adjust the thin circlet of gold that kept his wild hair from falling over his eyes. Michael begrudgingly reached down into a crate and produced another coil, throwing it none too gently at the sorcerer’s chest.

“Thank you Micoo.” Gavin simpered, batting his eye lashes and pouting his lips while the disgruntled guard continued to scowl at him.

“Why does he need two people guarding him?” Michael eventually growled out, annoyed expression now directed at Ryan. “And how come Jeremy and Lindsay get to help set up the food stalls while I’m stuck watching this idiot play around with a bunch of wire.”

Gavin made a rather indignant noise at that but didn’t look up from what he was doing. Ryan rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest and making his leather chest-piece creak loudly in the process. “Because Geoff’s worried someone’s going to try and scalp him and then use his hair as currency.”

Gavin squawked this time, shooting Ryan a quick glare but turning back hastily when one of the glass bulbs began to fizzle and flash in his grip. He rushed over to the crate and reached deep inside, bits of metal and wire going flying as he rummaged. A muffled, “That’s not very nice Ryan.” filtered out from the box, causing Michael to snort and break his stony expression.

The younger guard sent Ryan a pleading look and the captain sighed heavily. “Fine…” He conceded, raising an eyebrow when Michael immediately brightened and clapped Gavin excitedly on the shoulder. “You can go help them, but if you’re stealing food I expect a cut of it!” He called after Michael’s already retreating form.

Gavin wandered back over to the string of lights, carefully replacing the one that had apparently blown its fuse and then stepping back to examine his handiwork.

“So…” Ryan ventured carefully, not wanting to break the sorcerer’s concentration while he filled sunstones with energy from his fingertips, “Do many of your tribe come to festivals like this?”

Gavin hummed, closing up the mirror box and tucking it inside a wicker basket. “We usually send a trading caravan to these sorts of things. To sell cocoa beans and jungle fruit and spider’s silk, that kind of stuff.”

Ryan nodded, watching in fascination as the tribesman twined two different pieces of wire together. The glass orbs lit up instantly, growing brightly in the shaded laneway and painting everything in a soft golden hue.

Gavin beamed, bouncing around excitedly, sparks of sunlight shooting from his fingers. His hair and eyes glowed gold as he turned and grinned at Ryan, who had quite possibly forgotten how to breathe.

“Ryan, look at this, Ryan. It works!” Gavin danced happily around the alleyway, doing something that was halfway between a jig and a shimmy.

Ryan struggled to control his laugh while he bent down and picked up the box full of Gavin’s leftover materials. “Yes, yes it’s fantastic. Now come, let’s go tell the king and for the love of the Gods _please_ stop dancing!”

Gavin giggled and ceased his frantic movements, although Ryan would still categorise his walk as more of a bounce than a measured stride.

Villagers rushed by all around them, crates full of tools and clothes and food cradled in their arms or strapped to the backs of cows and horses. The rich smell of smoked meat and stewed fruit wafted all through the town centre, bringing a promise of a full stomach and hearty nights ahead.

Gavin seemed at ease in the bustle and hurry around him, weaving effortlessly through the crowd and smiling brightly at any that called greetings to them.

“Have you been to the summer festival before?” Ryan called over the general din around them, shuffling sideways past a group of arguing farmers.

He could see Gavin’s head bob beside him but he waited until they burst out of the market district and into the citadel outskirts before answering. “I’ve been accompanying the trading caravans ever since my father would let me. This festival used to be the highlight of the season for me.”

Ryan hummed in understanding, placing the box he was carrying down once they reached their horses. “You’ve probably been to more of them than me.” He joked, untying the lead from the tether pole and stroking down the bridge of his stallion’s nose. Gavin did the same beside him, cooing at his grey mare and scratching at the base of her ears.

Gavin’s crate was hooked on the back of Ryan’s stallion’s packbag before both men swung up into the saddle and urged their horses into a trot.

“Will there be any other sun elemental’s in the caravan?” Ryan asked after several minutes of silence. His body rose and fell with the natural rhythm of his horse, adjusting as paved road gave way to the packed dirt path that wound through the citadel’s sprawling farm land.

Gavin didn’t answer immediately, smiling sadly and looking out to the smudged outline of a mountain range to the east. “No.” He said shortly, shoulder’s hunching up and hands tightening on the reins. “I’m the only one now.”

Something like guilt constricted Ryan’s chest and he looked down at the saddle, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry.” He eventually offered, looking over to find Gavin still staring dejectedly into the distance.

The tribesman sent him a weak smile, relaxing his stiff posture and urging his horse to follow Ryan’s into a canter. “Don’t be.” He said gently, something wistful in his voice, “It is not up to us to question the will of the Gods.”

Ryan frowned at that, a little bemused by the statement. But, the sorcerer seemed to throw off whatever dark mood had come over him with a shake of his head and he urged his mare into a gallop with a nudge of his heels.

“Come on!” He called brightly, hair glowing radiantly in the afternoon sun, “The last one to the stables has to lick Jeremy’s boots!”

 

**vi.**

 

The jumping tune of a fiddle and lute carried from the raised stage in the town square and through the maze of market stalls until it spilled into the city gardens. People were everywhere, smiling and laughing and exchanging coin with little care. Almost every lady had a crown of woven daisies and roses upon their head and men sported satchels that were bursting with shining new daggers, trinkets for their wives and young children or packets of seeds ready for the autumn crop.

The food aisle was awash with rich scents and smoky incense. A fattened calf was roasting over a roaring cookfire; apples covered in caramel glaze hung in strings from the roofs of stalls; cakes that were dripping in fruit preserves sat temptingly on rough-hewn tables; and platters piled high with vegetables, stuffed with spices and painted in a salty glaze, were steaming behind the counter.

Ryan’s stomach growled and he gazed longingly at the smoky entrance to the stalls. The king had kindly guaranteed all market owners the security of his castle guards and now Ryan stood sentry over one of the market’s major coin deposits. Heaping bags full of coppers, silvers and the occasional gold royal were hidden behind hastily constructed wooden barriers.

A woman wandered over, a sack full of clinking coins slung on her back. Ryan smiled warmly at her and lifted the barrier so she could dump her load among the rest.

“By the Gods!” She exclaimed, eyes shining and cheeks flushed with warmth and perhaps too many sips of ale, “We haven’t made this much off our harvest in decades!”

Ryan laughed as he relowered the wooden blockade, accepting the sloppy kiss the farmer planted on his unshaven cheek. “We have been blessed this season.” He agreed, waving as the woman pranced happily back to her stall where her husband was still grilling corn and parsnips over a hot bed of coals.

A group of young boys charged past him, waving little wooden swords in their hands and sporting barrel lids strapped to their arms like shields. They stopped at the sight of Ryan, towering over them in gleaming steel armour with a ruby cape streaming behind him. Tiny mouths dropped open and eyes glittered with wonder as they spotted the broad sword strapped to his back and a row of daggers down his chest.

Ryan crouched down to their height and they wandered hesitantly closer. “Good evening soldiers.” He greeted, hiding his grin when the boys fluttered excitedly at the title. “Any mischief to report?”

One of the children stepped forward, billowing tunic too long and loose on him and completely covered in dried mud. “No sir!” He said proudly, standing on his toes so he could be taller than Ryan’s kneeling form, “We’ve kept the bandits away.”

“Good lad.” Ryan reached out and ruffled his hair before straightening back up. “Well off to it boys, this market’s not gonna guard itself.” The children nodded very seriously at him before rushing away in a blur of flailing limbs and waving swords.

A disgruntled shout behind him made Ryan turn, the yelling that ensued both incredibly familiar and amusing. Michael stood behind the performer’s stage, both his hair and crisp, clean tunic sopping wet. The guard’s eyes were thunderous as he screamed down at Jeremy and Lindsay who were bent double and laughing their asses off. Lindsay held in her hand a suspiciously empty pitcher. Michael spat out a few more profanities and threw up several rude gestures - that had parents covering both their children’s eyes and ears – before stalking off to find some dry clothes. Ryan watched on, a warm glow of amusement running through him as he watched his off-duty soldiers.

Flashes of gold now caught his attention and he swapped his gaze over to where a small crowd was gathering around the traders. Gavin was among them, juggling balls of light and throwing them in the air so they exploded and showered gawking children and curious parents with speckles of gold.

Several men and women were dressed similarly to him, in earth coloured clothes and intricate shawls that wrapped around their lithe forms. Wooden beads hung around most of their necks and bands of gold and silver twirled up lean forearms and around skinny ankles.

They all shared Gavin’s darker complexion - most probably gained from the withering desert sun – but most had raven hair and dark eyes, thick set brows and strong noses that contrasted heavily with Gavin’s fair and dainty features.

In fact, other than the clothes and skin tone Gavin didn’t seem to resemble the other tribesman at all. Ryan wondered if his parents had been newcomers to the tribe, maybe from as far north as Ryan’s homeland. 

A taller nomad slung his arm around the sorcerer’s shoulders, dark hair looking almost black as it rested against Gavin’s own mess of golden tufts. White teeth shone brightly as they grinned at each other and they both leant forward, only to roughly bash foreheads. Both men recoiled, hands flying to their faces and laughter spilling out between half-pained cries.

Something cold curled in Ryan’s stomach but he pushed it down and away. He turned from the traders so he could keep watch on the coins and market stalls again, reaching casually for his sword when he spotted a group of ragged teenagers edging towards the bags of money.

They scattered instantly, disappearing into the long shadows that stretched out across the square as the sun began to sink. Torches were being lit, strings of Gavin’s lights flashing into life all around the market district. Over low brick walls and straw roofs, Ryan could see the glow of the bonfire in the city gardens, already ignited and reaching high into the darkening sky.

He longed for the cheery warmth and crackle of the flames, perhaps a skin of sweetened wine and a leg of mutton from one of the stalls down the way. Instead he rolled his stiff shoulders and straightened once again, standing tall and imposing to scare off a daring adolescent who had come creeping back again.

 

**vii.**

 

The sun had long set and most of the crowd moved over to the bonfire when Gavin finally approached him.

“Ryan!” He cried cheerfully, stumbling slightly as he dragged his dark-haired friend behind him. The gold that both tribesmen were wearing was glowing softly in the torchlight, contrasting perfectly against the pure bronze of their skin.

Ryan inclined his head towards the two nomads, his tired expression partially obscured by his helmet.

“Ryan.” Gavin exclaimed again, breathless now that he and his companion had stopped struggling with each other. “I want you to meet Dan, he’s a warrior from my tribe.”

Ryan looked the dark-eyed man up and down, cataloguing the firm swell of muscle along his arms and legs and the fleshy pink scars that pockmarked his otherwise flawless skin. “Pleasure to meet you Daniel.” He held out a gloved hand, which the other man took and shook firmly. They gripped each other for several seconds too long before Gavin cleared his throat nervously and they broke apart.

“Please, call me Dan.” The tribesman offered, his accent just as strange and lilting as the sorcerer beside him. “I’ve heard a lot about you Ryan, Gavin can’t seem to shut up about all his new friends.” He glanced slyly at the younger man, a smirk curling at full lips, “But he’s been nattering on about you especially.”

Gavin made a half-aborted squawk and shoved at the warrior, the flush on his cheeks still highly noticeable despite the lack of light in the square. Dan’s grin only widened and he forged on, despite Gavin’s efforts to apparently claw his face off.

“ _Oooh Dan you should see the Northerner I’ve met! He’s got blue eyes Dan. Blue!_ ” Dan captured the bird-like quality of Gavin’s exclamations perfectly and Ryan couldn’t help but laugh deeply. The sorcerer finally managed to silence the other nomad with a fistful of sparks to his face, which left Dan stumbling blindly around in circles as he cursed Gavin with all sorts of strange insults.

Gavin turned back to Ryan, his cheeks still rosy and hair glowing brightly as embarrassment rushed through him. “Sorry about him.” The younger man mumbled, shuffling his feet awkwardly as several combinations of _minge_ and _smeg-pot_ were spat out behind them. “He’s not quite sure how to behave in civilised society.”

Ryan pulled off his helmet so Gavin could clearly see his amused grin, which only prompted another shove from the tribesman. “Oh bugger off. The lot of you.” He grumbled, attempting to cross his arms over his chest but only succeeding in tangling the long limbs in his many shawls.

Ryan continued to laugh softly beside him, exchanging an exasperated look with Dan as the warrior finally stumbled back over to them. There was an awkward silence as the trio stood and watched the flickering shadows of the bonfire dance around the edges of the square. Ryan shifted uncomfortably, his armour creaking noisily and only emphasising the tangible tension that stretched between.

Eventually, Dan elbowed Gavin in the ribs, causing the other man to jump and turn shyly back towards Ryan. “Ryan…” He drawled out slowly, drawing circles on the dusty ground with the point of his boot.

Ryan raised his eyebrow, leaning forwards so he could better hear the sorcerer’s mumbles. “Yes?” He answered just as slowly, fighting back a grin as Dan continued to nudge his companion suggestively.

“Would you like to get some food with us? Maybe go sit by the fire?” Gavin rushed out the sentence, cheeks turning an even darker shade of red at the blank look on Ryan’s face.

“Could you repeat that again? At a normal speed, this time?” Ryan couldn’t help the teasing smirk that broke out this time, watching as Gavin’s hair began to brighten and dim intermittently, the light infused in the locks clearly in tune with the man’s tumultuous emotions.

Gavin echoed his earlier questions, too embarrassed to even look Ryan in the eye at this point.

“Oh…” Ryan began regretfully, turning around to glance at the now hulking pile of coin bags. “I’d love to, but Geoff’s got me watching the money and scaring off any sticky fingers who’d like to try their luck.”

The nomads exchanged several meaningful looks, an entire conversation passing by in only a few seconds.

“Dan can watch them for you.” Gavin piped up, ignoring the exasperated sigh and eye roll that came from the other man, “If he eats anymore his horse will refuse to carry him anyway.”

“Oi!” Dan exclaimed, flicking Gavin’s ear before the sorcerer could dance out of reach, “I’d recommend not insulting the people who just agreed to do you a favour.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry B.” Gavin said distractedly, already taking Ryan by the arm and dragging him towards the food stalls. “Stop complaining and watch the money, yeah?”

Dan pressed his mouth into a thin line - face scrunched up in a scowl - but he obediently moved closer to the coin deposit, loosening the curved knife that hung at his belt.

Satisfied, Gavin pulled Ryan deeper into the marketplace, making a beeline for a butcher who hadn’t yet left for the bonfire.

“Come on, you must be hungry! Let’s make ourselves a feast.” Gavin whispered excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Ryan sighed, still a little unsure of what exactly was going on but reaching for his coin purse all the same.

By the time they made it out of the food stalls, Gavin had a basket full of food swinging off his arm. Inside were grilled cuts of beef, encrusted with herbs and wrapped in rice paper; soft, flaky bread that had been kept warm inside a clay baking pot; two cobs of corn that were dripping with butter; and several caramel apples that Gavin had begged Ryan for with wide, shining eyes. Ryan also carried with him two skins of mulled mulberry wine that’s scent was so sweet it made his nose tingle.

Gavin hurried past the bonfire - where the festival-goers had gathered in a large circle to dance and sing – and up onto a small hill further in the gardens. He dropped the basket down by the roots of an old oak tree, sprawling beside it and instantly digging in to the copious amount of food they’d gathered.

Ryan dropped one of the skins in his lap, reaching into the basket to tear off a piece of the bread loaf and snagging one of the dripping cuts of meat for himself.

They sat in silence for a while, both content to watch the people that spun and danced around the fire below them. Gavin made several pleased hums as he dug his teeth into juicy corn and flavourful beef. He outright moaned when the taste of the wine touched his lips, tipping his head back and pouring half the skin down his throat in one go while Ryan could only watch on with amusement (and slight concern).

“So, do you leave with Dan and the others tomorrow?” Ryan asked once the tribesman had finished his drink and begun working his way through one of the candied apples.

The nomad paused his nibbling, lowering the treat to his lap and biting his lip as he looked over to the traders who were entertaining a large mob of children while their parents danced.

“No, tonight actually.” He answered regretfully, reaching up to fiddle with the beads that hung from his neck. “There’s a smaller festival about to start in a village two days ride from here and we’d like to sell off the rest of our goods before heading back to the desert.”

Ryan nodded slowly, that cold feeling returning to his chest and trickling down to his stomach. “Oh.” He said simply, failing to hide the disappointment that bled into his tone.

“Oh.” Gavin repeated solemnly, his now gold eyes glowing brilliantly in the dark.

“Are you…sad to be leaving?” Ryan ventured, heart fluttering wildly against his ribs as the sorcerer shuffled closer to him.

“Yes.” Gavin replied immediately, shoulder brushing gently against Ryan’s. “But if I don’t leave now it’ll be another two seasons before the caravan comes back.”

Ryan hummed in agreement, leaning further to the side so that more of Gavin’s fiery warmth leached into his skin.

“My father never really let me leave the tribe, or separate from the caravan.” Gavin spoke up again after several minutes of comfortable silence. “It’s been so wonderful to meet so many different people. To stay in one place, even if it was just for a little while.”

“You’d be welcome anytime.” Ryan interjected hastily, some desperate desire to convince the other man to stay rearing up inside of him.

Gavin smiled softly, his flawless face half hidden in the shadows cast by the fire. “Of course.” He said quietly, small swirls of light spilling onto the ground as his fingers curled in the dirt. “And I promise I’ll come back some day.”

A warm thrill sparked up through Ryan at that, a hope of something he dared not acknowledge growing stronger and stronger as the younger man looked at him so earnestly.

Gavin grabbed at his hand, standing suddenly and dragging Ryan up with him. “Come.” He said, already pulling towards the bonfire. A new tune was striking up, backgrounded by the heavy thumps of several dozen feet. “It’s not a festival unless you dance.”

“I don’t really dance…” Ryan protested weakly, but Gavin was already pulling them into the firelight.

“Come on Ryan!” Gavin whined, tugging childishly at the other’s large hand, “It’s my last night, you have to be nice to me.”

Ryan made a show of rolling his eyes and sighing heavily, but obligingly walked closer to the circle of dancers. Gavin bounced happily beside him, pleased giggles bubbling up and lines of gold bursting out of his palms and wrapping themselves up his forearms.

A lady brushed past them with a basket full of flowers and Ryan paused for a moment, passing the women a copper and pulling a sunflower from the pile. He offered the bloom to Gavin with a flourish, blushing slightly when the other took it from him tentatively.

“You seemed quite fond of them.” He explained awkwardly, watching as Gavin threaded the stem through his shawls and laid the petals over his heart.

“My mother’s favourite.” The tribesman murmured, a funny look passing over his face before he brightened up and began pulling Ryan back towards the circle. Lindsay and Jeremy swung by, snagging at Gavin and Ryan’s hands and pulling them violently into the dance. Both men stumbled for several steps but caught on quickly to the repetitive pull and spin of the circle’s movements.

The music rose and fell, the rhythm carried by heavy staccato notes and the deep thrum of a sheepskin drum. The dancers circled round and round, stamping feet creating a large plume of dust that mixed with the smoke of the fire and rose high into the night. Gavin threw his back and laughed beside him, ribbons of light wrapping themselves all over his body as the contagious joy of the crowd overcame him.

Ryan was breathless, from both the demanding pace of the song and the unnatural warmth of Gavin’s palm in his; the pure look of radiant joy on the younger’s face. A sharp tug from Jeremy sent Ryan stumbling again and he was forced to look back down to his feet, lest he fall flat on his face.

The larger circle eventually broke into smaller groups and then individual pairs as the music flowed from one tune to the next. Ryan forgot all about his aversion to dancing when he and Gavin were spinning about the fire, decided that it might be his favourite thing when he lifted the other high in the air and received musical laughter in return.

A tribesman eventually came for Gavin, when the night was winding down and the music had turned soft and slow. Ryan and Gavin swayed in each other’s arms, drunk from both the mulberry wine and the thrill of the night and grinning stupidly into each other’s shoulder.

“Gav!” A tall woman called, her lithe frame thrown into sharp relief by the silhouette of the fire, “We best be off soon!”

Gavin nodded sadly at her, sighing and slumping down further into Ryan’s arms. Ryan indulged in their embrace for several selfish moments before drawing back and looking dejectedly down at the other man. “It seems we must part ways tribesman.”

Gavin refused to look at him, fingers brushing gently over the velvety petals of the sunflower.

“Gavin.” Ryan prodded at the sorcerer gently, heart wrenching as the nomad’s hair dimmed down to a dull straw colour, and the soft strings of magic that had been wrapped around his wrists and arms faded away.

“Don’ wanna go.” The younger mumbled into his shirt, pouting lips visible even though his face was turned towards the ground.

Ryan gripped at the nomad’s chin gently, raising his head up and meeting eyes that were now a dull olive colour. “You have to go. You said it yourself Gav.”

Around them, the gardens were slowly emptying; city-folk and travellers retreating to the warmth of their beds and castle guards and courtiers trudging back to their waiting carriages or horses. Ryan could see the traders packing their remaining goods into the saddlebags of their small herd of horses. They were laughing as they worked, brilliant smiles shining easily in the gloom of the waning night.

Thin fingers wrapped around his wrist and tugged gently. Ryan looked back to find Gavin pulling him towards the small plot of trees that stood in the centre of the city gardens. He went easily, footsteps measured and slow as the sorcerer lead him to the tiny clearing in the middle of towering oaks and twisting birches.

Gavin was looking up to the stars, the entire heavens reflected in his big eyes. Ryan followed his tormented gaze and found that Apollo was once again looking down upon them.

“What it would be to have the powers of the Gods…” Ryan breathed out, a puff of fog escaping as he spoke, “To go anywhere and do anything you pleased. To be unconcerned by mortal plights.”

He looked back down to find Gavin already staring at him, something reserved and unreadable in his expression. A shadow crossed over his face for a moment, quickly dissolving into a soft smile as he leaned in closer to Ryan.

“My mother would have liked you.” The sorcerer whispered, his forehead now pressing against Ryan’s. There was a mournful tone tinged deep within his voice, something raw and heartbroken that had Ryan crooning softly and pulling the younger man into an embrace.

Gavin just stared at him. Eyes impossibly wide and slowly filling with gold. Ryan could do nothing but look back, caught like a mouse in a cobra’s gaze. Behind them the whinny of horses and shouts of traders pierced the night, a rumble of hooves building as the caravan began to move out of the city.

“You have to go.” Ryan said reluctantly, beginning to pull away but pausing when a warm hand wrapped around his neck. His breath caught in his throat, arms sliding back to their place around Gavin’s waist. The sorcerer stayed frozen for several more seconds, a conflicted expression on his face while he looked between Ryan’s eyes and his lips.

They both leaned in at the same time, lips brushing softly and a shock bursting through them at the contact. Ryan pulled away with a short gasp but Gavin frantically yanked him closer, mouths colliding and breath mingling as they soaked up each other in these final moments. Ryan swiped his tongue across the sorcerer’s plump bottom lip, tasting the tart sweetness of the wine and a hint of Gavin’s own spiced taste.

He was vaguely aware of the ribbons of light that were wrapping around both of them, twining them together and keeping them as close as they could possibly be. Ryan tightened his grip on the younger man, a dangerous passion rising up within him. He could keep him here, never let go and –

“Gav!” Dan’s rough voice broke them apart, “Gav they’re leaving without us!” Gavin’s shaky breath ghosted over Ryan’s cheeks, and warm fingers stroked all through Ryan’s hair, along his neck, down his chest. There was a soft clink of wood against wood as Gavin pulled off his string of beads and threw them around Ryan’s neck instead.

“I have to go.” He murmured, eyes shut tight and forehead pressed against Ryan’s. Hands tangled in the beads and splayed over the older man’s chest. Ryan nodded once, eyes also screwed shut as he soaked in the warmth and feel of the other man before he was ripped away.

One last kiss was pressed to his trembling lips before Gavin pulled back and out of their embrace. Ryan kept his eyes closed, swaying slightly in the absence of the other’s warmth.

When he finally opened them, Gavin was gone.

 

**viii.**

The chill of winter air seeped between the cracks of the stone walls, leaving the throne room so icy that every breath came out as a puff of warm vapour. Some of Gavin’s lights lined the walls, brightening up the large hall but also providing a small measure of heat to those who weren’t close enough to the fireplaces.

Ryan refused to look at the lights, the warm glow that tickled at the edge of his vision enough to make his gut wrench painfully. He felt the sorcerer’s absence even more painfully now that the kingdom had grown cold and dark. It seemed as if the very sun had followed the tribesman back to the desert.

Above him, Geoff sat slumped on his throne, not evening bothering to hide his bored expression as one of the assize judges droned on about unpaid court fines and tax evasion in the outer villages. Ryan could see the guards that lined the throne room all slumping in their posts, limbs numb with cold and bodies bordering on exhaustion. The entire imperial force was stretched thin as they struggled to deal with the rise of winter mob hoards and pockets of unrest in the outer fiefdoms of the Province.

Ryan stifled a yawn of his own, determined not to set a bad example for his men and turned his heavy eyes back to the still complaining noble.

Everyone jumped when the doors were dragged open and a man dressed in torn, blood-stained leather armour rushed in. Geoff straightened immediately, all traces of sleepiness gone as the soldier limped up the aisle.

The judge was waved aside with a dismissive hand, the newcomer kneeling by the steps in his place.

“Your Grace!” The man gasped out, chest heaving as he struggled to draw in enough of the frigid air. Ryan’s critical gaze danced all over him, noting several open wounds and a concerning amount of congealed blood.

“Speak soldier.” The king spoke firmly, his voice carrying easily to the edges of the large room.

The man bowed his head, body beginning to tremble as the adrenaline of his flight to the capital faded away. “Pirates.” He croaked out, bloodshot eyes meeting Geoff’s concerned gaze. “They attacked Westborough Port a two days ago, razed half the city to the ground.” He lowered his head, shame radiating outwards as he mumbled the last of his news. “They took the Baron hostage.”

A low murmur raced through the courtiers, guards stirring uneasily and looking to the king as he considered the information. Geoff’s face was a neutral mask, though Ryan knew the other man’s thoughts must be racing as he struggled to find a solution.

“You have done well soldier; your bravery will be well rewarded.” The trembling man shook his head miserably, the failure towards his Baron still probably fresh in his mind.

“Ellis!” Geoff called out, standing from his throne while the lieutenant lumbered out from behind the dais.

Adam bowed slightly, one hand resting nervously on the hilt of his battle axe. “Your Grace.”

“Take this man to the infirmary and then go find the fastest riders from your men. We need to get word to the other coastal villages as quickly as possible.” Adam nodded once, already pulling the injured man carefully up and edging towards one of the servant entrances to the side of the throne.

Geoff dismissed the court with a sharp word, the room filled with a concerned buzz from nobles and guards alike as they milled about in frantic confusion. The king only had eyes for Ryan.

“Captain.” He called, descending the throne in quick steps and grabbing Ryan by the upper arm.

“My men and I will be gone within the hour, My Lord.” Ryan cut the king off quickly, mind already racing through which guards should be taken and who should be left behind to defend against the mobs.

A small flicker of relief crossed over Geoff’s face and he squeezed Ryan once before releasing him. “Godspeed captain.” He said before turning to consult with Jack who had rushed up to him as soon as the courtiers had been dismissed.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Ryan pulled on the reins and urged his horse to halt at the crest of the hill. Below them was the sea, dyed in fiery stains of red and orange as the sun began to rise above it. Resting next the roiling mass of waves was Westborough, a decent-sized port with strong sandstone walls and an outer ring of fertile farmland.

A large smudge of black smoke hung above the city, it’s acrid stench carrying with the breeze up the hill and burning at their nostrils. Ryan could see small fires burning all around the city walls as pillaged barns and silos were razed to the ground.

His company halted behind him, horses pulling nervously at their reins and snorting with flared nostrils as the stench of blood and smoke reached them. To his right was Jeremy, and the squad of the archers he had taken from the imperial barracks. To his left was Michael and the rest of his mounted cavalry.

The warrior urged his horse up beside Ryan so he could better see the raided city before them. The man sucked in air between grit teeth, reaching up to push his bear cap higher on his head. “The fuckers didn’t take long.” He growled, hand stretched behind him so he could finger the hilt of his broadsword that was strapped tightly against his back.

Ryan hummed in agreement, sharp eyes cataloguing every weak point he could see in the outer wall; every entrance to the city that might give them the element of surprise.

He turned to his men, who watched him with nervous apprehension. “We’ll come in from the east.” He instructed, gesturing to the side of the city. “Part of the wall’s partially collapsed and we can sneak through.”

His cavalry nodded in understanding, most of their faces cast in concentration. Lindsay grinned viciously up at him, eager for the fight and already loosening her sword in its scabbard.

“And the archers.” Ryan turned to his right, taking note of how stiff and nervous Jeremy looked. The young lad had never fought anything larger than a small hoard of zombies and draugr and now here he was leading a squad into battle. Ryan pushed away the guilt he felt at pulling the sergeant into the fight and forged on. “There’s a collapsed guard tower that you can scale to get to the wall. Take out anyone up there and then cover us from above.”

He looked out at all the solemn faces before him, making sure he looked tall and confident in his saddle. “For the House of Ramsey and our mighty kingdom!” He called, already directing his horse away from the top the hill and past rows of his soldiers.

“For the House of Ramsey and our mighty kingdom!” His men’s rumbling assent echoed behind and Ryan smiled grimly, his blood already beginning to race with the thrill of the fight.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Michael broke down the door to the keep’s upper stair well with one firm kick. Wood splintered outwards and up the staircase as he and Ryan raced inside, their blades dripping with blood and thirsting for more.

Most of the raiding party lay dead or dying in the narrow laneways and open courtyards of the town. Any that were left were slowly being driven back towards the docks by the rest of Ryan’s battalion.

Michael ran up ahead of him, causing his furred hood to fly off his head as he took two steps at a time. A constant growl was streaming past his bared and bloodied lips and the man looked utterly terrifying, coated in crimson as he was.

They burst onto the upper landing – the personal quarters of the Baron – and didn’t hesitate to bury their blades into two unsuspecting pirates. Ryan wrenched his blade out from the fallen raider with a wet noise, shaking off bits of grisly flesh from the razor-sharp edge before advancing down the hallway in quick strides.

A door sat slightly ajar and Ryan shoved it open with barely a second thought, slitting the throat of a man who jumped at him. Michael kneed a pirate in the stomach beside him, slamming his shield into the man’s face and breaking his nose before sliding his blade up between ribs.

They both turned – breathing heavily and dripping with gore – towards the window. The Baron was kneeling on the ground, eyes wide with fear and a dirty rag shoved into his mouth. Another man stood behind him, dressed in leather armour and rich furs.

Eyes that were almost black studied both newcomers, lips curled up in an ugly sneer. The pirate was a massive, hulking thing; barrelled chest and swollen arms threatening to burst out from the straps that kept his armour in place. He held a knife to the old noble’s neck, the shiny black blade encircled by red, glowing blood magic.

Ryan hesitated, cursing himself when the brute only smiled wider and pressed the flat of the blade more firmly against the Baron’s neck. The old man whimpered beneath the rag, struggling weakly against the raider’s hold.

Ryan lowered his sword, glaring at Michael until the young warrior did the same.

“A wise decision.” The pirate’s voice was flat and dull, complimenting the lifeless pallor of his skin.

More pointed teeth were revealed as he grinned viciously at them. “Although it won’t change a thing.”

He flipped the blade in his hand so the razor-sharp edge was pressed into the Baron’s neck, the blood magic already beginning to blister the skin.

Michael let out a harsh cry and lunged forwards, getting halfway across the room in one step. Quicker than should have been possible, the raider drew the knife back, arm moving in perfect form as he prepared to throw it at Michael’s exposed throat.

Ryan didn’t think, only lunged forward himself and shoved Michael out of the way, grunting softly when the blade passed through his mail like it were made of water and embedded itself in his stomach. White hot pain exploded outwards upon impact, his skin charring instantly and disintegrating away at the touch of the magic.

He roared in pain, lurching forwards and swinging his sword wildly at the pirate. The man had his back against a wall and couldn’t escape the flailing arc, he dropped to his knees as he was partially disembowelled.

Before he could rise again Michael jumped over Ryan’s slumped form and buried his sword in the raider’s throat, dropping the blade when the gurgling man collapsed forward.

Ryan gasped on the ground, a hand pressed fruitlessly against his torso as far too much blood for a dagger wound spilled onto the ground. He could feel his skin flaking away in greasy, blistered pieces as he tried to hold the wound closed and nausea instantly rose up within him.

Michael was shouting frantically beside him, on his knees and grabbing at Ryan’s shoulders as he vomited and then collapsed onto his face. Everything was blurring into smudges of red and black; all he could smell was blood and the pungent stench of burnt flesh.

He could hear Michael yelling out the window, desperately calling for help. It sounded far away and soon enough all noise faded into silence as Ryan let himself slip into numb nothingness.

 

**ix.**

 

Ryan had woken up by the time they dragged him into the healer’s chambers, but he couldn’t do much more than writhe and groan as they laid him down on the bed. Shaking hands unbuckled his armour and pulled it off, dragging the mail hauberk with it.

Ryan cried out weakly when the metal shirt dragged past his wound, pulling more skin with it and making the burning sensation flare up again. His cloth undershirt was ripped off him as he convulsed on the bed and a bandage was hastily wrapped around his side to stem the constant flow of blood.

Someone tugged at the wooden beads around his neck, trying to pull them up and over his head. Ryan’s eyes snapped open and grabbed at the wrist of a woman he didn’t recognise. “Leave them.” He gritted out, eyes rolling back as another pair of hands pulled the cloth tight around the wound.

The woman pulled away and retreated over to a bench covered in vials and flasks; Ryan could hear her rummaging frantically through the collection and muttering to herself. The gash began to throb in time with his heart beat, causing all the muscles in his body to tense every few seconds. He grabbed at the beads around his neck, taking a small amount of comfort in the smooth chips of wood; in what it represented.

A potion was splashed onto the charred edges of his skin and Ryan couldn’t contain his scream, arching off the bed and lashing out with his arms as the sensation of burning alive refused to fade away.

A hand pressed down onto his chest and another potion was dripped carefully into his mouth. Ryan’s eyes rolled backwards and his fingers snagged limply in the loops of his necklace as he slipped back into blessed darkness once again.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Ryan’s world existed of pain. Pain and fire.

He walked the line between consciousness and sleep – never strong enough to open his eyes but acutely aware of the fire that raced through his veins. He didn’t recognise any of the voices that surrounded him, they all blurred together into a confused mess of sound that made his head pound. He thought he remembered Michael holding him down at one point, while they changed his bandages and poured more of that hellish potion on him. But everything was so confused at this point, he could no longer decipher between what was true and what was not.

A coldness seeped into his limbs, starting at his fingers and slowly, inexorably moving its way towards his chest. Ryan was dimly aware – as he tossed fitfully upon bloodstained sheets – that his life was draining away…that whatever cursed magic that was on that blade was only hours away from reaching his heart.

Ryan retreated deep inside himself, hiding away from the unbearable pain that sat within the realm of reality. He dreamed of his childhood instead – of days spent tumbling in the snow, dressed tight and snug in a cloak made of reindeer skin. He thought of the festivals; holding tight to his mother’s hand as she’d led him through the maze of lights and performers and merchants; sitting out under the stars, warm between his brothers as they waited for the colourful lights to wind their way across the sky.

A sorcerer was crouching over him, fruitlessly trying to draw the blood magic from his veins. Ryan was vaguely aware he was screaming so loud he’d begun to choke on his own blood, but it only made him cling tighter to his memories.

The first snowfall of the season. The joy of his father when the thaw came and new crops could be laid. Sneaking through thick pine forests with his brothers on a hunt. Falling in love with the rolling hills and sunny plains of the Ramsey kingdom. Hot summer nights spent laughing by the fire. Sunflowers. Golden light. Warmth. _Gavin, Gavin, Gavin…_

The door slammed open and another man walked in, throwing his hood off to reveal hair that glowed unnaturally in the dim torchlight of the room. The magician kneeling by Ryan’s torso paused, his ministrations clearly the cause of Ryan’s convulsing body and foaming mouth.

“Get away from him!” The man snapped, throwing of his cloak and hurrying over to Ryan. Smooth hands stroked sweaty hair away from his eyes and cupped gently at his cheek. Sharp eyes turned towards the wound on his stomach, still gaping open and blackened around the edges.

A trembling hand was held over it, glowing impossibly bright before tendrils of gold began to snake their way along Ryan’s skin.

Ryan jolted at the warmth, clawing his way out of the pain filled haze and struggling to lift open eyes that were gummed shut. “G-Gav.” He croaked out, tossing his head in the direction of the sorcerer.

“Shhh.” Gavin soothed, cupping his cheek again and stroking his thumb along freshly dried tear tracks.

Ryan relaxed back into the bed, moaning lowly when his side began to burn again. Gavin put both his hands over the wound now, molten sunlight pouring out and dripping all over the other man’s seared flesh. The golden magic ran like a river around his stomach, slowly beginning to tinge with flecks of red and black as the blood magic was drawn out.

Ryan hissed and groaned below him but Gavin held on grimly, tugging out the dark magic that lay embedded beneath his skin. He felt himself weakening, power beginning to fade without any direct access to sunlight.

He closed his eyes, beginning to tremble as the effort overcame him. The magic slipped away with an audible snap within him, light fading around Ryan and the darkness dripping back inside his wound like blood.

“Everyone get out.” Gavin ordered, feeling dizzy and weak as he leaned over the bed. The healers shuffled out without protest, staring at the strange sorcerer with wide eyes until the door closed with a thud.

Ryan moaned weakly as the blood magic slipped back inside, the fire in his blood reigniting almost instantly.

“I’m sorry Ry, I’m sorry. I can’t, I’m not -” Gavin choked on his own words, placing trembling lips on Ryan’s blazing forehead and stroking hands down the older man’s sweat-soaked sides. Gavin pressed his head into Ryan’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut and a sob threatening to spill out from his throat.

Ryan took harsh, jagged pants. Heart thumping with a weak, erratic beat that Gavin could hardly feel. He was running out of time.

The sorcerer tipped his head upwards, tears leaking out from beneath his closed lids. “Father.” Gavin whispered to the room, hands clasped in pleading prayer. “Father please…”

Gavin’s eyes snapped open, blazing like the very sun itself. His whole body was beginning to glow, veins visible beneath his bronzed skin as magic rushed through him in waves. Ryan shifted weakly below him, the light so bright it penetrated the inky blackness of his half-slumber.

Gavin’s hands returned to the wound, palms pressed tight against the gash while a black sludge began to bubble to the surface. Ryan roared in pain while it spilled out of him but Gavin only pulled harder, drawing it out and up into the air.

Gavin’s whole body flared with light, the room filled with a blinding flash before everything exploded in sparks of black and gold.

Ryan took two huge gasping breaths and sat bolt upright, hands flying to his side only to find the skin whole and unblemished. Gavin had collapsed by the side of the bed, body still glowing from head to two. He pulsed with light, so much magic roaring through him he could barely stay conscious.

Ryan scrambled off the bed, grabbing Gavin by the shoulders only to recoil when his skin burned like a white-hot iron. Gavin yelled once, the light flaring so bright Ryan had to shield his face, before it left him in an instant and the sorcerer slumped limply on the ground.

Ryan blinked several times, struggling to adjust to the natural gloom of the room as he reached down to tentatively touch Gavin again.

His skin was feverishly warm but it didn’t burn to touch so Ryan pulled him up from the ground and into his arms.

The tribesman blinked sluggishly at him, fingers snagging weakly in the beads that still hung from Ryan’s neck.

“Gav!” Ryan breathed, still not quite believing he had the other cradled against his chest. “You’re here. You saved me. How did you know? How did you -”

Gavin silenced him by pressing two fingers to his lips. He reached down with his other hand to brush against Ryan’s bare side, smiling weakly when he felt nothing but soft, unscarred skin. “It worked.” He murmured quietly, pulling himself up a little more so he could press his forehead against Ryan’s. “It bloody well worked.”

Ryan laughed brokenly, burying his nose in the tribesman’s neck to soak in the smell and warmth of the other.

Sunflowers. Golden light. And _Gavin, Gavin, Gavin…._

 

**x.**

 

“Then this motherfucker.” Michael forced out around a mouthful of meat – Jeremy, Lindsay and Adam leaning in with wide-eyed anticipation – “Just jumps in front of me and cops a cursed magic knife to the stomach.”

The three guards gasped, turning to give Ryan looks of awe and appreciation.

“Saved my fucking life.” Michael mumbled, downing his ale in one draught before moving on to the pile of buttered potatoes on his plate.

Ryan fixed his eyes on his boots, sinking further back in the low-lying couch he was resting in. He felt Gavin reach up and squeeze at the arm he had thrown around the sorcerer’s shoulders before he strained up so he could whisper in his ear. “Don’t be embarrassed you knob.”

Ryan slung his arm more tightly around the other’s thin shoulders, pulling him across the couch and closer to him.

“Oi love birds!” Michael called over the burning hearth between them, “If you’re gonna fuck, go elsewhere. You’re interrupting the story.”

Both men blushed heavily and pulled slightly away from each other and Michael just rolled his eyes. He turned back to the other three guards, miming an action which Ryan recognised as stabbing the raider through the throat.

“We-we should get to bed though.” Ryan looked sharply down at Gavin, pulse jumping at the bare suggestion.

“Not like that!” The younger man hissed out, rosy cheeks rapidly darkening to crimson. “We have a big day tomorrow and you need all the rest you can get!” The tribesman refused to look Ryan in the eyes and the older man grin cheekily, slipping his hand from the sorcerer’s shoulder to rest low on his side.

“Ryan!” Gavin snapped, slapping the offending hand away, “Not until you’re better.”

They both stopped their bickering when Michael ceased talking again, eyeing them up and down shrewdly. Jeremy was making suggestive gestures behind the warrior’s back and Lindsay gave Ryan several exaggerated winks.

“Right then!” Gavin said in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, shifting uncomfortably when Ryan wound an arm around his waist. “We’re off to bed. Big day tomorrow if we want to be in the Northern Dominance in time for the winter festival.”

Michael just rolled his eyes in exasperation before continuing his story, gesturing so wildly he very nearly knocked over his refilled tankard of ale.

Gavin and Ryan made their way slowly through the unfamiliar passageways of Westborough Keep, eventually finding the room the older man had been given after he’d been cleared from bedrest by the city’s head healer.

Ryan flopped onto the bed with a sigh, still achy and exhausted from the residual effects of the magic Gavin had drawn out of him. “It’s been three days.” He groaned, kicking off his boots and pulling the loose tunic he’d been given over his head.

He slipped under silken sheets in only his breeches, the material soft and warmed by the fire that crackled in the hearth by the window.

“Blood magic isn’t something to be trifled with love.” Gavin said gently, sliding in beside him and cuddling up to his side, “Even my…Even _I_ could only do so much.”

Ryan was too tired to notice anything significant in the correction, soft snores leaving him only seconds after he closed his heavy eyes.

 

~*~*~*~

 

The flames of a firebreather burst from his mouth like a long curling tongue, sizzling in the freezing winter air and making children squeal in amazement.

Gavin laughed at the show, eyes shining brightly as he watched a little girl try to blow out flames of her own. He was snuggled tightly under Ryan’s arm, both of them rugged up in fur lined coats they’d bought as soon as they’d reach the Northern city.

Ryan leaned over and pressed a kiss in the sorcerer’s messy hair, feeling warm and content and completely full of spiced pumpkin pie and venison stew.

Gavin dragged him through the crowds, pointing excitedly at the snow spectres created by ice elementals. He rushed over, letting go of Ryan’s arm as he crouched down and attempted to pat the tiny polar bear. Upon his fiery touch it disintegrated into a pile of snow and Gavin pouted sulkily while the sorcerer beside him belted out a huge, hearty laugh.

Ryan led him towards the brightly lit market stalls in attempt to distract him, pointing out scarves and bangles and gold trinkets whenever he spotted them. Soon enough Gavin had a satchel bursting with new wraps and jewellery.

They tried to play a round of ring toss, but the tribesman kept distracting Ryan by pressing kisses to his lips every time he went to throw. The older man couldn’t stay mad when Gavin cooed and awed over the little carved reindeer he received for his (illegitimate) victory.

While the night grew long the festival only livened – more logs were thrown on massive bonfires dotted throughout the area and hot drinks were spooned out from large barrels to be given to every passer-by.

The moon had already passed its zenith when Ryan nudged Gavin, who was leaning sleepily against his shoulder. “It’s almost midnight.” He murmured in the sorcerer’s ear, unable to resist pressing a soft kiss to the other’s neck. “If the lights are to come out tonight. They will be here soon.”

Gavin let himself be led from the warmth and the light of the crowd and out onto the sparsely vegetated tundra that bordered the city. Ryan eventually stopped by a thin patch of snow, which he brushed away to find flattened, brown grass beneath.

He took off his coat and spread it on the ground, sitting down and immediately pulling Gavin into his lap so he could steal some of the unnatural heat that radiated off the sorcerer. Gavin hummed happily, snuggling back into Ryan’s chest and resting his head against his shoulder so he could look up at the sky.

They sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the festival carrying easily across the flat plains before they were snatched away by the wind. Gavin’s hair glowed faintly, a visible sign of the younger’s contentedness, that had Ryan grinning softly to himself.

Slowly at first, a very faint length of colour began to stretch across the sky. A luminous green ribbon which was quickly followed by several gold and crimson slashes. They multiplied until the entire heavens were swimming with colour, which reflected down on the shimmering snow like a perfect mirror image.

Gavin gasped softly in front of him, head tipped upwards and mouth agape. The colours reflected in the gold of his eyes, and Ryan couldn’t decide which sight was more beautiful.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” He whispered in the tribesman’s ear, watching as more rivulets of red snaked across the glowing expanse of sky. “It’s like my mother said – a painting by the Gods.”

Gavin went very still in his grip, drawing forward and away from Ryan’s chest. A nervous energy was humming close to the surface and Ryan could feel his blood racing. He didn’t say anything, just stroked down the other’s side until he began to calm.

“Eos.” The tribesman whispered, like the name was some great, awful secret. Ryan stopped his petting, furrowing his brow in confusion and looking away from the sky.

“What?” He asked quietly, leaning back when Gavin twisted in his grip.

“It’s Eos who’s painting in the sky.” Gavin said firmly, still sounding vaguely mortified. “Goddess of Dawn she’ll only appear when night begins to turn to morn. Father said she only paints when the festival is on, because she likes an audience and that’s when the most will see it.”

Ryan was speechless, mouth opening and closing several times while Gavin watched him with a guarded expression.

“Your father says…” Ryan finally forced out, struggling to decipher exactly what Gavin was hinting at, “Your father…what exactly are you saying?”

Gavin took a deep breath, lifting his palm up so Ryan could see the small orb of light resting in the middle. “My father.” He repeated, laughing to himself as he tipped the light from one hand to another, “God of healing. God of light. God of the sun.”

“Apollo…” Ryan breathed, eyes widening as watched Gavin’s magic drip onto the snow and melt it away. “Gods.” His breath hitched and he drew back onto to his knees, so he wasn’t touching Gavin. “ _You’re_ a God!”

Gavin laughing softly, still sending nervous streams of magic winding up his fingers and wrists. “No, not quite.” He said quietly, lips turning down as he tried to smile sadly at Ryan. “My mother was like any other mortal.”

“So a demi-god then.” Ryan blurted out stupidly, “You’re a demi-god.”

Gavin nodded patiently, reaching out to gently touch Ryan’s side. “Is it that hard to believe?” He asked, eyes glittering gold and glowing with amusement. “No mortal could have healed such a wound.”

“By the Gods.” Ryan’s breath hitched as he sat back down on his cloak. “I’m courting Apollo’s son. I _kissed_ Apollo’s son. He won’t smite me, will he? He can’t actually _smite_ people can he?”

Gavin silenced his nonsensical ramble with a quick kiss, taking Ryan’s face in his hands and looking him calmly in the eye. “Idiot.” He chided gently, stroking his thumb gently over Ryan’s cold flushed cheeks, “He’s not gonna smite you. He likes you…he helped me save you.”

“O-Oh.” Ryan stuttered out, not protesting when Gavin pulled him down into a kiss. He relaxed instantly, tongue dancing with Gavin’s in languid swipes as the lights shimmered and danced above them.

They lay down on Ryan’s coat, kissing lazily and rubbing noses while Gavin’s magic twirled around them in slow circles.

Eventually, Eos’ painting faded away, replaced by the usual constellation of glittering stars. Ryan pulled up with a gasp, head spinning and lips shining red.

Gavin tugged on his neck but he refused to come back down and the sorcerer whined unhappily. “Ryan I swear if you don’t kiss me again _right now_.”

“I can’t.” Ryan whispered nervously, still not moving while Gavin tugged on him insistently.

“Why the bloody hell not?” The demi-god growled out, trying to sit up and catch Ryan in a kiss but missing when the other man reared back.

“Your dad’s constellation is literally right there.” Ryan muttered, embarrassed.

Gavin heaved a huge, exasperated sigh and stood up, dragging Ryan with him. “W-what are you doing?” Ryan asked worriedly, stumbling behind the determined sorcerer.

“We’re going back to the inn.” Gavin said loudly, his answer partially aimed at the sky. “So we can bloody well shag in peace!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can pinpoint exactly when I figured out this wasn't gonna fit properly into ten parts but oh well.
> 
> I probably won't be able to write anything big for ages but hit me up on ironicpalmtree.tumblr.com and I could be persuaded to write some drabbles ;)


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